


Too Much

by ashisfriendly



Series: Political Fantasies Do Come True [2]
Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cunnilingus, F/M, Interns & Internships, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6139357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisfriendly/pseuds/ashisfriendly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Intern/Congressman AU || After a few weeks of fooling around at the office, Leslie Knope is invited for a low key, romantic dinner at Congressman Wyatt's swanky apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much

Everything about Congressman Ben Wyatt is… _too much_.

The way he addresses a room, the compassion and soft touch to his eyes, to the amount of calculators he has in his office. His rough voice in the morning before he’s had coffee, the way his tie becomes more loose as the day goes on, how his hair is somehow neat and a mess all at once. Then there’s his hands; so big and always slightly shaking, like the… too much-ness of his entire being can’t even keep his limbs strong. The numbers are crunching and he’s calculating and there are opinions and facts and figures all in his head, decisions to make across his chest, and it’s all bubbling and it can only come out in the soft tremble of his hands. 

His hands. His lips, tongue, even his teeth. The way he smells like cologne and something flowery and fresh like laundry detergent. How she caught his eyes so soft and warm over takeout containers, how his lips can burn and soothe her skin simultaneously. His hair, the shadow on his jaw by three in the afternoon, the way that scruff feels on her neck, how all his smiles are lopsided. The complete respect and attention he gives her. Her. Just little intern Leslie Knope. He _sees_ her.

It’s all so, so much. 

His apartment is no different.

She’s never been here before, and everything about the experience is new to her. A doorman opens the door for her who greets her by name with a smile. Leslie waves as her cheeks warm. The lobby is lined with marble floors and has fancy art hanging on the walls. It reminds her of a restaurant in Eagleton where she celebrated Ann’s 18th birthday. Like Ben instructed, she turns left and pressea up on the elevator door, and then keys in the code for his apartment.

Yes, the elevator opens into his apartment.

The apartment isn’t huge, but the far wall is entirely made of windows so that the blinking, night view of the city is absolutely breathtaking. Leslie steps into the apartment just as the elevator dings and closes behind her. It’s a studio, very clean and minimal. There’s an island that separates the kitchen from the living area that has a few action figures on it, and one Lego spaceship. Otherwise, there’s no other sign of personal touches in the entire room. Not even a photo of family or friends or even a pet hamster. 

“Ben?” Leslie calls.

She walks in deeper. His bed is tucked away behind a half wall. Seeing it makes her stomach flip, even though it, much like the entire place, looks hardly lived in. She still thinks of him under the sheets and her neck warms.

“Leslie?” Ben’s voice is soft as he comes from behind the wall, pulling a t-shirt on over his head.

She catches a glimpse of his stomach and she almost starts salivating. He’s hot. He’s incredibly hot. He’s an incredibly hot Congressman. Who likes her. _Her_.

He smirks and walks up to her. He’s wearing jeans and a band t-shirt, his feet bare. It amazes her because she’s seen him half naked, she’s seen him between her legs and above her, but the dressed down, casual Congressman Wyatt look is very new and somehow way more intimate. And it’s totally doing it for her.

Ben cups her face and pulls her to his lips. Leslie instantly deflates, the entire rushing push and pull of the day gone in an instant. She has no idea how he does this, but he’s been doing it since the first time he’s kissed her.

His lips part just for a moment, just enough for their tongues to briefly meet before he pulls away, kissing her nose.

“I made pasta,” Ben says, walking past her, his hand sliding around her waist as he goes. She turns and watches him enter the kitchen. “It’s not very fancy.”

“I’m not a very fancy girl.”

Ben turns around and raises his eyebrows before going back to the stove. He moves around the kitchen, draining pasta, looking even more dreamlike through the steam rising from the sink. He puts a bowl of salad out on the dining table and whistles as he makes their plates. She doesn’t realize she’s just staring at him until he says her name.

“Huh?”

“I said, would you like wine?”

“Oh.” Leslie swallows and moves to the table. “Yes, please.”

Even this, this modest home made dinner feels larger than life. The conversation, from work to childhood pets, to favorite ice cream flavors, feels so much more monumental than it’s probably supposed to. As she’s talking about the importance of the Girl Scouts, Ben scoots forward and wipes food from her chin and she inhales sharply, as if he’s shocked her. It sure feels like it, a slow and soft electricity buzzes through her, warming her from the inside out.

The wine helps. The wine helps her feel like she belongs here, in a high rise apartment in DC with a hot congressman who makes her dinner and wipes food from her mouth and makes her close her eyes so he can surprise her with a cupcake for dessert.

“What is this?” Leslie asks. It’s past dinner, past dessert, and Ben’s putting plates in the sink while she examines the nerdy decorations on the island.

“Uh,” Ben says, furrowing his brow, “the Millennium Falcon?”

“Oh.” Leslie nods.

“It made the kessel run in less than 12 parsecs.” 

“Oh, yes, right, yes.”

She has no idea what he’s talking about.

Ben rounds the island, head tilted in skepticism. “We’ll watch Star Wars another night,” he says.

“Why not tonight?” Leslie asks.

Ben slides his hands around her waist and tucks his fingers underneath her shirt. His hands are big and warm on her skin. She gasps and sighs, leaning into him as Ben pulls her shirt up and over her head.

“Because,” Ben whispers, hooking his finger underneath one bra strap and moving it down her arm, “I have other plans tonight.”

Leslie shivers as he pulls the other strap down and kisses her throat, reaching behind her and undoing her bra. It falls as he pulls back and his jaw stiffens, eyes darkening.

“Bed.” Ben’s voice is rough and low, twisting into her. “Now.”

She sways as she turns, catching sight of the beautiful DC skyline as she goes toward the bed. Ben is hot and close behind her, touching her hips, tracing his finger along the waistband of her skirt. He pulls down the zipper as she walks past the half wall. She stops, knees against the edge of the mattress. Ben pulls on her skirt until it passes her hips, letting it fall the rest of the way. 

A growl rumbles behind Ben’s lips as he kisses her neck, palming her ass. She’s wearing her rainbow striped cotton panties. She thought about buying lingerie for tonight but she never made it to the mall and, if she’s being honest, there’s something to her regular, cute, printed cotton panties that Ben seems to like. 

His fingers push beneath her panties and he feels more of her skin, scratching his nails all over her ass, hips, and thighs. Leslie shakes, arches her back, and hisses escape between her teeth. He nibbles her neck, nudging her hair out of the way so he can bruise her skin, dragging his teeth over her spine as he moves. She yelps at his bite on her shoulder and Ben pushes her forward.

She falls, palms flat on the bed, bent over infront of him. Leslie closes her eyes as Ben pushes her panties down her legs. He rubs and kneads her ass, swearing under his breath, her name coming out in rough whispers. Kisses brush against her spine and back, reaching to her sides, her hips, and finally along her ass. She wiggles her hips and Ben holds onto her with a firm, bruising grip. He drops to his knees and Leslie feels Ben’s nose and breath against her. 

Ben taps the inside of her ankles to get her to spread her legs and she adjusts the best she can. His head sits back on the mattress so he can tilt his chin up toward her. Leslie takes in a breath, trying to ease out an exhale. Fingers dig into her ass and pull her down to his face and Leslie yelps at the contact of his mouth. She grips the sheets on his bed to steady herself but Ben doesn’t give her the time, pushing his tongue inside her with his first breath. 

He growls again and pulls her in even closer and Leslie’s legs give out and she’s flat against his face. His tongue laps at her, pushing into her like he’s starving. She screams and wiggles above him, trying to find traction on the ground again, but she can’t, not while he’s fucking her with his tongue like this.

Leslie grinds into his face, awkward and clumsy, but she can’t control the movement. She craves him and is enjoying the build, unaware if he can breathe, but unable to think clearly enough to stop herself. Ben’s tongue moves to her clit, circling, lips puckering and sucking between turns. Leslie screams, his name escaping against the mattress as he pushes two fingers into her. He moves quick inside her, fingers curled and rubbing as he pushes in and out of her, tongue deep inside her.

She’s pure electricity. She can practically see the sparks coming out of her fingertips as she holds onto the blankets. There’s a current on her skin that stings and feels amazing all at once. She’s climbing, unbelievably fast, and one foot finally finds the ground and she uses the leverage to thrust into his face. He groans, a loud almost animalistic sound, and everything speeds up and intensifies tenfold and she’s seeing the electricity igniting into flames behind her eyelids.

Leslie falls onto the mattress and Ben slides out from underneath. He gives her no time to recover, flipping her over and kissing her, hard. His tongue slides between her lips, letting her have a taste. She groans into his mouth, wrapping her legs around his waist while she pulls at his shirt. It flies over his head, Ben cursing when their lips have to part in order for it to pass between them. Ben makes quick work of his own pants and finally, they’re skin to skin. 

They keep kissing, Leslie’s lips starting to numb from his teeth and the scratch of his stubble. Ben is a biter and it’s entirely new for her. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling until she whimpers and he lets her go, kissing her again. He does it again, Leslie’s back arching before she rolls her hips up. Ben groans, grinding against her, his dick rubbing against her clit and along her opening. He’s not pushing inside, but she doesn’t care, her hips moving to match his so they keep grinding, lips hot and desperate, tongues hitting teeth as he hisses and she moans.

Ben drops from their kiss, chest rising as he looks down between them, watching them move against each other. He swears, his hips angling so his dick almost slides inside her, but he pulls back and keeps their traction going. She hits his shoulder and his moans turn to laughter. His teeth catch on her breasts and Leslie let’s out a new high pitched whine that makes him move completely down, disconnecting them below, but allowing him to devour her breasts.

He’s sloppy and thorough, some kind of deadly combination that makes her toes curl and her stomach heat. She grips sheets, his hair, his shoulders, not caring if her nails dig into his skin and make him bleed. His hands, his huge, constantly trembling hands, wrap around each breast. His mouth opens, tongue circling her nipples before his swollen lips suck. She bucks and shakes, but he holds her down, not seeming to mind the scratching and hair pulling. She’s approaching another orgasm, but it’s much slower this time, going a little higher when one of his hands moves between her legs and fingers graze her clit. That’s all he does, a soft graze, a quick circle that teases her, but it works. It fucking works.

“Ben,” she begs when he takes another turn of her clit. She hopes it will keep his fingers down there, but it doesn’t. “Ben!”

He smiles along her breast and moves to the other, squeezing and massaging with his hands as he goes. His tongue moves along her flesh, stopping just above her nipple and he sucks, biting and swirling his tongue, working on a new bruise that will look beautiful in the morning when she looks at herself in the mirror.

His teeth sink into already tender skin and his fingers find her cit again and it only takes a few more seconds before she’s grabbing his wrist, shaking and moaning as her orgasm rolls through her. It’s tame, but long, and it takes over her entire body like she’s hypnotized and floating. She whispers his name as she comes down, his kisses soft and sweet along her chest.

“Stay put,” Ben says, moving off the bed. 

Leslie rubs her fingers along the sheets to feel the soft fabric. Her body still tingles, almost euphoric, and moving along his sheets helps keep the sensations flowing through her veins and lacing her muscles.

She blinks, turning her head to watch him walk back to the bed. There’s a condom in one hand and in the other, is his dick. He strokes himself with a lazy, slow grip that’s so ridiculously sexy, Leslie has to rub her legs together. Ben looks at her and releases his grip. She must frown because Ben’s eyebrows raise, his lips twisting into a teasing smile.

Leslie’s cheeks warm, but to her absolute delight, Ben starts touching himself again. This time, not so lazy, but more deliberate, harder, his thumb sliding over the tip and rolling down with his hand, wrist twisting. His eyes are hot on her, chest heaving, and Leslie sits up, crawling toward him like a beacon. Ben groans and he holds out the condom and she takes it in her hands, opening it as he moves faster. 

He slows as her hand reaches out, fingers grazing his. He slows down but Leslie joins his strokes, leaning forward to get a taste. Her tongue only traces the tip quickly, but it makes her moan anyway.

Too much, he’s just too much.

Ben takes the unwrapped condom from her hand and he rolls it on, Leslie’s fingers moving to his balls. He sighs, a tremble going through him and she flicks her eyes up at him, their gazes connecting.

“Good Lord,” he groans.

Something must snap in him because the next thing she knows, he’s pushing her down and kissing all over her body, from her hips to her breasts, into her neck. His hands hold her wrists above her head as his teeth nip up her neck and his tongue pushes into her mouth. Their hips move again, but this time they connect, and he pushes. Hard.

Her voice catches in her throat, so her scream is silent. Ben groans her name, kissing her jaw and then her lips before pulling out and pushing in again with just as much force. Her hands can’t move, clamped down by his own but she struggles to move, to grip, to hold, even though she can’t. He fucks her, whispering that he missed her today before he stills, deep inside her, and flips them.

Her hands are released and she uses the freedom to card her fingers through his hair and grip. He hisses and smiles, his eyes dark and searing into hers. She moves above him but their foreheads stay together, Leslie’s fingers still pulling on his hair, Ben’s eyes still held onto hers. Their lips meet between breaths, between curses, between Ben’s words that are so full and powerful that they must be branding into her skin.

Ben moves his hands down to her ass, holding her there and thrusts up, making Leslie gasp. Her hands fall, face burying into his neck as he thrusts up into her, holding her hips so she can’t move. All she can do is hold on and feel it all, feel his dick hitting her deep and fast, his hands gripping and massaging her ass, his lips against her ear, breath in her hair, and her name in the air, like the most beautiful sound. It’s better than any inspirational speech, better than the sound of birds in the morning, better than the fresh fall leaves under her feet on a cold morning walk through the park.

Ben is better. He’s better than anything.

His hips move faster, more erratic, and when he cums, he holds down her hips and groans louder than she’s ever heard him before. Ben at home is very loud, Ben at home wears jeans and his eyes shift from the color of caramel to the color of dark chocolate. Ben at home rolls her over after sex and kisses her for so long, whispering sweet nothings against her lips until she’s dizzy with words.

Ben pulls away, tracing her bottom lip with this thumb before moving her hair from her face.

“You’re incredible,” he says.

Leslie’s chest burns and she closes her eyes, nestling her face into the pillow. It smells like him, cologne and clean all in one. She peeks at him. His fingers keep playing with the ends of her hair and his face is so soft, eyes half open and glazed like he’s day dreaming. 

“Why me?” Leslie whispers. Ben blinks.

She didn’t mean to ask, but it comes out anyway. She doesn’t want to sound crazy or clingy, but he’s haunting her. He’s pulling her in for kisses behind locked doors and spreading her legs after take out dinners in his office. He writes down her ideas and listens to her strategies and helps make them solid. Once, he said that she was saying campaign speeches as she slept in the armchair in his office, and he had notes for her to help her future campaign strategies. 

“What?” Ben asks, brow furrowing.

“Why do you like me?”

It doesn’t compute. She’s 21, an intern -- not that she doesn’t have remarkable qualities or sometimes even inspires herself, but there are political gazille power goddesses all over this city. Somehow, a sexy, tight bodied congressman likes her.

Wait, maybe he likes a lot of interns, maybe--

“Leslie?”

“Huh?”

Ben moves from her, sitting up and getting to his feet. 

“I’ll be right back.”

Oh no, oh no, _no, no, no_. She should’ve kept her mouth shut. She’s doomed now, he’s probably calling that girl who works in the office downstairs, she always gets coffee at the same time that Leslie does and one time she went with Ben and they were talking which means they obviously have fucked before. She was better, Leslie is sure of it. She probably is flexible, not that Leslie isn’t flexible, but she doesn’t stretch as much since gymnastics in high school. She should’ve stayed with gymnastics. Ben might like that. Or if she actually got to be Student Body President, or if she could organize a spreadsheet of numbers even remotely well. Now, ideas and pros and cons list, she’s got, but numbers --

Something grabs her ankles and Leslie’s sliding down the mattress. She yelps, holding onto her pillow and looks down.

Ben’s eyes are dark and determined as he kneels down, sliding her further and placing her thighs on his shoulders. She can’t breathe.

“It’s come to my attention, Ms. Knope, that I haven’t made myself clear.”

“No, I--”

Ben runs his fingernails down her sides and over her ass.

“I like you,” Ben says and leans down, licking her. She gasps. “Only you.” He licks again, deeper this time, longer, making her eyes roll and breathing quicken. “I’m just very disappointed.” His hand reaches to her breasts, lightly tracing a nipple. “That I haven’t proved it yet.”

“I believe you,” Leslie says, her voice shaking.

“You’re lying.” He practically growls and Leslie’s throat tightens, her toes curling. He pushes his fingers inside her and she gasps as they curl. “We’re not leaving my house until you believe me.”

Leslie sits up to protest but his mouth connects with her and she falls back again.

She feels and listens, the room spinning, as it engulfs in everything. Confessions and promises, kisses and orgasms. She’s fucked and breathless and she’s cared for and full of ecstasy. They fall asleep as the sky starts to turn purple, her body numb, her head fuzzy, but her heart is full, full, full.

Full of something unsaid, something deep and inspiring, something that is scary and somehow entirely certain.

Something she completely believes.


End file.
